Kundiman Silent Sanctuary Chords

(An Extremely Hot intense hardcore Taboo Erotica Collection rated 18+. Incest, Age gap, father and daughter relationship and so many more) “Harder,” she gasps. “Please—God—don’t stop—” He pounds into her, gritting his teeth, sweat sliding down his temples. “Fuck—Grace—I’m gonna—” "Inside me,” she whispers. “Please—inside—” He comes with a shuddering growl, burying his face in her neck. His body locks tight above hers, and she feels every throb, every pulse, deep inside. They lie there for a long time after. Breathing each other in. Her fingers trace lazy circles on his back. His lips graze her collarbone. She doesn’t ask what this means. She already knows. *** When Grace returns home for the summer, she never expects the man who married her mother to unravel her world. Julian is older, distant, and dangerously magnetic—and neither of them can resist the pull. What begins as stolen glances and silent obsession spirals into something violent, raw, and all-consuming. Their affair is poison, but it tastes like salvation. As secrets crack open and loyalties burn, Grace must choose between the life she knew and the man she can’t live without. Craving Grace is a taboo, blisteringly hot descent into forbidden desire, where love is a sin—and sin feels like home.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

All her life, Lyla has only known pain. After her mother’s death, she was left alone with a man who never saw her as a daughter — only as a girl to control. Her days were filled with silence, fear, and survival. She never dreamed of love. She never even believed she deserved it. Until one letter changed everything. Now she’s in a new world — one filled with magic, secrets, and danger. But the most confusing part of it all? The four Alphas. Each of them pulls her in a different way. • Dante, the cold protector who pushes her away, yet is always the first to catch her when she falls. • Riven, the bold flirt who swears their souls were once bound together. • Kael, the silent dragon Alpha who sees through her even when she hides. • And Lucien, the vampire prince who almost drank her blood… but chose to fall for her instead. Lyla doesn’t want attention. She just wants peace. But something inside her is waking up — something powerful, something dangerous… something that draws the four Alphas closer. Is she meant to love one of them? Or is she the girl who will ruin them all?

In a world ruled by Alphas, where Omegas and Betas were meant to serve, Mikhail lived in the quiet safety of his mother's love. He was a rare kind of Omega-mute, delicate, and unseen by the brutal world beyond their small cottage. His mother shielded him from the harsh reality of their hierarchy, whispering soft words into his ear as he traced the shapes of her lips with his fingers. But peace was fragile. One cold evening, his father returned-a man Mikhail barely knew, reeking of alcohol and desperation. With a cruel glint in his eye, he grabbed Mikhail's wrist, pulling him away from his mother's trembling arms. "You're worth more than you know," his father muttered, shoving him into the arms of a hooded stranger. Mikhail didn't need words to understand. He had been sold. Colton was a name whispered in fear, a beast draped in human skin. An Alpha whose touch left scars on both body and soul. He ruled with cruelty, his presence alone enough to make even the strongest Omegas tremble. Mikhail had heard of him. Everyone had. When he was thrown at Colton's feet, he didn't fight. He didn't beg. He simply met the Alpha's piercing golden eyes with silent defiance. The room was silent. Colton tilted his head, intrigued. "A mute Omega," he mused, his voice like gravel. "How will you scream for me?" Mikhail swallowed hard, but he refused to break. The Alpha's lips curled into a smirk, but there was no amusement in his eyes. Only hunger. Only the promise of ruin. "Let's see how long that silence lasts."

Roseline's stomach turned and her fist clenched tightly around the handle of the big travel box beside her. She heard the clanging sound of the metallic head of Thompson's belt meeting the ground. Next, quite footsteps. Then, Thompson appeared in her view, like a ghost she didn't believe existed. He was completely bare, with his hairy chest rising and falling slowly, his cock shooting out in front like a gun ready to be fired, his balls bloated from desire, swinging from side to side as he walked closer to bed. Roseline's feet stuck to the ground and her eyes refused to blink as they looked on. "That's it, my boy. Hmm! I like what I see", the red hair gasped, rolling her eyes longingly at Thompson. As Thompson climbed unto the bed, his eyes totally locked in hers, she drew her breasts closer him, then, proceeded to rock the big pumpkins against the flushed skin of his face. "You like them?", she asked, moaning lightly. Thompson paused. Then, in a defiant move of uncontrollable desire, dug his chin into her breasts, burying his entire face in them. "Ouch", she gasped, then broke into a weak laugh, pushing his head more into her chest. "The damn bra", she spoke again, twisting uncomfortably as she threw her hands behind her to unhook the material. But Thompson caught her hands. Without words, his head still hidden in her cleavage, he slowly returned her hands to his head. Obliging to his silent command, she cackled loudly, pressing her chest even more into his face and then, with her tongue, glided across his neck and ears hungrily. Roseline froze. She wanted to scream but in that moment, she forgot how to.

She has never spoken a word. Not because she chose silence— But because life chose it for her. Aradhya Mishra, mute since childhood and walking with a painful limp in one leg, has lived in the background of the world. Quiet, observant, and emotionally scarred, she’s learned to express her thoughts through gestures, eyes that speak volumes, and a heart that still dares to dream. She's fragile on the outside—but only fools mistake her silence for weakness. He was born to dominate. Avyaan Singh Rathore—aka MADVIPER—is the brutal, cold-blooded mafia king. Ruthless, feared, and untouchable, he rules the underworld as the head of the secretive gang THE VEYRIX. His name alone silences rooms. He doesn't believe in love. Doesn't care for innocence. Until he's forced to marry her. A girl who cannot speak. A man who doesn't listen. Tied in a bond neither wanted— And for a reason neither knows. What begins as a mistake turns into something much more twisted. A war of silent stares, guarded hearts, and slow-burning emotions. She's the calm to his storm. The quiet to his rage. And perhaps—the only voice his soul can still hear. But love doesn’t bloom easily in a world soaked with blood and secrets. When two broken souls collide under a lie, Can truth set them free— Or will it destroy them both?

When Maya transfers to Raven High, all she wants is a fresh start not a fight with the school’s queen bee or an entanglement with the mysterious Zane Walker. But secrets don’t stay buried, and neither does the pain both teens carry. As whispers turn into scandals and stolen glances into heart-throbbing kisses, Maya and Zane find themselves caught in a dangerous game of love, lies, and survival. With enemies disguised as friends and a past that won’t stay silent, will their hearts survive the storm or will it tear them apart forever?

Two brothers. One forbidden girl. A dangerous craving no one wants to admit. When Sienna Cruz moves in with her new family, she never expects her quiet life to unravel in the hands of her drop-dead gorgeous stepbrothers—Simon and Soren Rivera. Simon is her silent protector. Cold to the world, but warm to her. He’s always there—watching, caring, saving—but never touching. Because to him, she’s off-limits. A craving he refuses to give in to. He has a girlfriend, a reputation, and walls too high to climb. Soren, his twin, is the opposite—bold, magnetic, and unashamed about wanting her. And he doesn't care if it ruins everything. Sienna is caught between Simon’s tortured restraint and Soren’s reckless desire. But the longer she stays, the harder it gets to tell love from lust, protection from possession. She was supposed to be their sister. But one wants her heart. The other wants her body. And she might not survive either.

I was born into a world where loyalty is currency and vengeance is law. In this life, love is a weakness... and I learned that too late. My name is Aria Valente—daughter of a mafia kingpin, a pawn in a bloody game I never agreed to play. I was raised to be poised, silent, and obedient. But everything changed the day I was forced to marry Lorenzo De Rossi—the heir of our enemy, a man as cold as the steel he carries. His touch burns. His silence cuts deeper than any blade. And yet, behind those dark, calculating eyes lies a storm that calls to the chaos in me. We were never meant to fall in love. Torn between family legacies and buried secrets, I uncovered truths that shattered the world I thought I knew. Lies. Betrayal. A history soaked in blood. Lorenzo isn’t just my husband—he’s the very weapon forged to destroy me. But I am not the delicate flower they raised me to be. In this world of blood and bullets, only one truth remains: I will not bow. I will rise. Now, we are no longer pawns. We are fire and fury. And this is no longer a love story. It’s a war.

Tate flirts with danger the same way he flirts with men. Recklessly. So when his father’s debts land him in the hands of Enzo Moretti, a cold-blooded mafia boss with a smile as sharp as his threats, Tate should be terrified. Instead, he flirts harder, hiding sharp eyes behind thick glasses like he doesn’t see the monster watching him. But he does. He always did. Enzo is no ordinary criminal. He’s a werewolf with a body built to break, a past soaked in blood, and a temper barely kept in check. Tate is supposed to be collateral—silent, obedient, forgotten. But Tate? He’s loud, shameless, stubborn enough to make Enzo feel. For months, they circle each other—clashing, teasing, burning. Enzo should’ve killed him, but instead, he steals him. Holds him. Breaks him open until their craving for each other twists between punishment and pleasure, until need feels like worship, and pain starts to taste like love. Then, when Tate thinks he’s escaped, when he thinks he’s free—Enzo lets him go. When someone else tries to take what’s already his, Enzo doesn’t hesitate. He drags Tate back, and now the boy wears his name, carries his ring, and sleeps in his bed. Maybe Tate should hate him. But he doesn’t. Because he never wanted gentle. He never wanted safe. He wanted this—blinding, consuming desire. And Enzo? He doesn’t let go. Not when he’s tasted him. Marked him. Owned him. Because monsters like him don’t share. Not even with their own blood.